


It's you, it's you

by needsmoreyellow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2337551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needsmoreyellow/pseuds/needsmoreyellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the hottest day of the year, and Sam's just now realizing that Gabriel has eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's you, it's you

**Author's Note:**

> ((Sam is 16, Gabriel is 23))
> 
> Read/reblog on Tumblr [here](http://needsmoreyellow.tumblr.com/post/98044110536/its-the-hottest-day-of-the-year-and-sam-is-just).

Sam noticed Gabriel in late August, on one of the hottest days of the year.

Water had officially been made a sacred resource, to be used for necessary human consumption only. That meant no sprinklers, which meant dead grass, dead flowers, dead everything. That also meant no kiddie pools to sit and boil in, unless Sam wanted to invite the wrath of karma over for an uncomfortable barbecue.

The world was in shades of gold, and Sam decided to spend the day leaning back in the shade of the tree in his backyard, watching the air rise up off the roads in ripples and waves.

He could have stayed inside – he could have – but at this point he really didn’t know if air conditioning was actually making a difference, and he wanted to enjoy summer to its fullest before school was back in and winter was back in and everything (and everyone) got cold and miserable.

The ice cubes in his water hadn’t even lasted five minutes. Maybe thirty seconds. He licked at the condensation on the glass and sipped the water while trying his damn hardest not to whine. It would feel so nice to dump it over his head.

But, again: karma.

He didn’t even realize Gabriel was there until he was waving a hand in Sam’s face, crouching down and raising both eyebrows like Sam was the weirdest fucking thing he had ever seen in his life.

Gabriel did that a lot.

But he was still smiling, so Sam knew that he didn’t mean anything by it.

Dean was home, too, laughing about something and shouting about ice cream and popsicles from inside the house, but that didn’t explain why Gabriel had left him to come talk to his strange little brother who’d been sitting in the sun for probably more hours than any human ever should.

Oh well, Gabriel was weird too.

Sam looked at him and opened his mouth to say something, but ended up unattractively choking on his own spit as pure and utter horror filled him from head to toe.

Gabriel’s eyes were transparent.

He swore, he swore to any time of God that there was, that he was looking through Gabriel’s eyes and into the yard beyond him, at the dead grass and the sunlight reflecting off of the porch door, and he panicked, because maybe he should say something, that can’t be good.

And then he blinked, and the flecks in his eyes swirled around and cleared his mind, and the realization that those were just Gabriel’s eyes hit him like a ton of bricks; like the hottest day of the year, like the dead grass and the smell of hot pavement that Sam still didn’t know if he liked or not. They were gold –gold like they’d always been.

And Gabriel was saying hi, like he always did, adding the kiddo to the end like always, but Sam wasn’t having it because suddenly he was aware of everything; painfully and self consciously aware of the fact that he was shirtless and red and flushed and sweating and staring at Gabriel, and that Gabriel had gold eyes.

He almost covered himself with his arms, but he was scared that would make him even hotter.

“Hi.”

And Gabriel smiled. Gabriel always smiled, at everything, but Sam was just now noticing the way it made his eyes shine, how much younger it made him look, and how it wouldn’t have mattered if Sam was laying naked in the snow, that smile would have heated him from the inside-out.

He was dizzy.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Sitting.”

He snorted, and Sam stared. Then he stared some more, because apparently that was all he could do. Gabriel was glowing and gold and his breath smelled like bubblegum and his eyes were there and his hair was there and it was all so much, wonderful and safe and comfortably warm, unlike this weather, unlike the brutal glare of the sun directly on Sam’s skin as it had been for hours and hours and had it really been that long?

Apparently he said as much, because Gabriel’s smile twitched like it was going to slip. It didn’t.

And then Sam was inside. He didn’t really remember how he got there. He remembered Gabriel touching his arm and then the sun disappearing and then a lot of dizziness and now he was inside with the blessed air conditioner and Dean reminding him that he was probably going to have sun stroke tomorrow.

He sat down, still shirtless and red and sweaty-hot, while Dean got him a Fudgsicle and Gabriel plopped down beside him and put his feet up on the coffee table. He was a stretch of softness and warmth and eyes that he definitely had, and it was all new.

Instead of glancing at him and looking away, or asking him a question, or telling him something humiliating about Dean, Sam looked at Gabriel and looked at Gabriel and looked at Gabriel and his stomach wound itself into too many knots for him to fix.

His Fudgsicle melted all over his hand.

*

Gabriel left and Sam’s mom came home, and he sat in his room with spaghetti sauce staining the corner of his mouth and watched the moon change the colour of the grass from gold to blue. His iPod had been flipping through his playlists for the past half-our, but he hummed along to love songs and love songs only.

He thought about Gabriel, and the way he had stubble sometimes; how he’d rubbed his scruff against Sam’s cheek when Sam was only fourteen, and how when he shaved it away Sam could pretend he was only four years older instead of seven.

He crawled into bed with the curtains drawn and giggled into his pillow before he went to sleep, breath smelling like peppermint toothpaste and alcohol-free mouthwash, and thought about the way Gabriel blew bubbles and smacked his gum because it made Sam laugh, and how he always ruffled Sam’s hair before him and Dean went out to pick up girls or drive around.

He woke up and forgot for a while. His mom made scrambled eggs and he took a shower and decided to stay inside.

*

It was the second-hottest day of the year, and the book Sam chose to read had foxes with gold eyes and he thought of Gabriel again and smiled until his cheeks hurt.

Dean was out all day (again) and his mom was at work all day (again) so Sam wandered his house freely, stepping outside to feel the heat and then stepping back into his air-conditioned house to prove to the sun that he was better. He looked outside at the gold grass and watched TV and read his book about foxes and everything was as it always was.

The Impala pulled into the driveway at around noon, the sounds of its engine followed quickly by the sound of the front door and Dean groaning as he shed layers and thanked Gods he didn’t believe in for air conditioning and home comforts.

Sam turned away from his spot by the fridge and prepared to hand him a Fudgsicle. He already had one, and he’d been standing in the kitchen for a minute, now, steadily licking at it while he stared out the window at the gold grass.

Dean hadn’t stopped groaning. He took the ice cream and groaned and Sam wondered how his throat was still holding up.

And then Gabriel strolled in behind him, dressed in black and forehead shiny with sweat from the heat. Sam didn’t think about it and opened the freezer to get another Fudgsicle, because Gabriel deserved one too, and with the freezer door blocking his view, Sam was less likely to stare at him.

Somebody took Sam’s ice cream.

He frowned and leaned away from the freezer to shut the door, and found Gabriel there, closer than before, a familiar, teasing smirk on his face while he stuck the entire popsicle into his mouth at the same time.

“That was mine.”

“Mmm.”

He frowned some more and Gabriel grinned even wider, pulling the now-clean stick out of his mouth and leaning in to kiss the top of Sam’s head like he’d done probably a million times.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

And then he left, and Sam was left standing with a red face and a red chest and a hot everything, eyes on the floor and lips struggling hard not to grin and give him away, holding a fresh Fudgsicle that he didn’t want to eat.

It melted.


End file.
